


i am the evil thing in the house

by ZOMBIEDOG



Series: SELF-INDULGENT [29]
Category: Five Nights at Freddy's, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: ALSO heavy violence against dabi, Fandom crossover, Other, and this was my excuse, fnaf canon-esque gore, i couldve left this on google docs but i wanted the world to suffer, if dabis a comfort chara or kin i recommend you skip this fic, if you wanna stop me you gotta steal my hands yourself you coward, no this is not really romantic i just want a gore au, no this is not the weirdest thing iv ever written, yes he is a jaguar model and yes you can decide what he was before that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:41:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29626485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZOMBIEDOG/pseuds/ZOMBIEDOG
Summary: If he was the embodiment of a humans lust for revenge, you were his equal in human ignorance.
Relationships: Dabi (My Hero Academia)/Reader, Dabi/Reader, Dabi/You
Series: SELF-INDULGENT [29]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1326377
Kudos: 6





	i am the evil thing in the house

**Author's Note:**

> **READ THE TAGS: THIS FEATURES _HEAVY_ FNAF CANON VIOLENCE AGAINST DABI**  
> also yes i have springtrap brainrot if you wanna blame someone blame him

Cerulean eyes only looked on in mild interest as blood dripped from his fingers, falling to the snow beneath his boot-clad feet and dying the snow a horrible red that seemed to shine in the overhead light. Sneer pulling at his lips, he hastily wiped his hands off against his black coat - leaving dark streaks in their wake as he then moved to quickly stuff tattooed hands into deep pockets. Oyabun wanted the bastard dead but he also wanted to send a message to anyone else that dare cross him or the Shateigashira that operated in the local district - and thus, Oyabun had sent in Touya, his Wakagashira. 

Heaving another heavy sigh, numb fingers fished for a spare cigarette and lighter that were inevitably floating around his deep pockets, humming in satisfaction when one was found and subsequently brought to rest between his lips, eyes now lidded as his gaze focused on the small flame - his other hand raised to protect the little flame from the nights freezing wind. Inhaling deeply once the cigarette was lit, he could only close his eyes in a moment of fabricated serenity before dragging it from his lips and sighing out the lung-full of smoke. Head tilting back, he let his eyes open just enough to look at the stars above him, one last beautiful sight before he had to hunt down the next bastard of this little group.

One last deep inhale of the cigarette and then it was dropped to the ground, crushed under a heavy boot and leaving echoes of ash in the subsequent footsteps as he disappeared into the closest alleyway, quickly becoming lost to the world as another stranger under the stars. Perhaps he would’ve looked at those stars a moment longer if he’d known the fate that awaited him.

-

An ambush. A fucking ambush. He knew the bastards were cowardly but to be so pathetic as to team up with the ones against Oyabun to destroy him? Touya knew not many men were a fan of him - many finding him intimidating and dangerous, not exactly a man you wanted to be friendly with - but to hate him to such an extent that they  _ planned _ an  _ ambush _ ? His wrists were undeniably raw at this point, the ropes having chewed at his skin aggressively the longer he struggled against his bindings - he could ignore the pain, hell he could doctor himself back to perfection, but right now he wanted nothing more than to rip the throat out of that smug little bastard.

Teeth pulled back in a snarl and gaze sharp, Touya was pissed at the audacity of these bastards - there were repurcussions, and severe ones at that, for fucking with the Oyabun’s right  _ fucking  _ hand man. God, the things he would do when he got free from his bindings. Breathing now heavy, eyebrows furrowed together tightly he could only silently observe as one of the grunts of seemingly lower status answered a phone call, eyes blowing wide with panic as he passed the phone to the little ring-leader. His expression soon matched the grunt as he gave a quick affirmative before passing the phone back.

Footsteps echoed loudly through the abandoned building, and Touya could feel his fists clenching tighter as the bastard made his way to him, bending down just enough to be at eye-level. “You’re a  _ very _ popular boy, Touya. Too bad you couldn’t behave - then maybe we wouldn’t have been hired to…  _ dispose _ of you.” Cerulean eyes shined even more brightly in the dim lighting, unbridled hatred raging like a fire in the depths of his stare, nose twitching as he ground his teeth tightly together. “What? Too proud to speak to me?” the man cooed, sarcasm dripping heavily from his tone. 

“Mark my words, you  _ motherfucker _ , I  _ will _ get my revenge.”

Proud glare now morphing into a disgusted sneer, the ring leader scoffed before moving to turn his back to Touya, waving his hand in the air dismissively. “Just get rid of him already, poor bastards already spiraling into some little revenge fantasy.”

Suddenly, like a switch had been flipped, the grunts were on him - fists were swinging, there was deafened laughter and the taste of blood heavy on his tongue, and then he could feel an echoed sensation of his body being dragged. He could feel hands pushing on his body, fingernails digging into his skin, his hair being tugged and his face being squished. And then he felt an uncomfortable sensation - one he couldn’t place. Something new was digging into his skin, poking between his ribs, scratching at his arms and neck. And then something changed.

Screaming. Someone was screaming, and fuck was it loud. His throat hurts - it hurts, it hurts, it hurts. His ribs felt like they were cracking, god this hurt worse than when Rappa got drunk that one time and decided to body slam him at full speed. Why did he hurt so bad, what the fuck was happening to his body. Did he even have a body? He couldn’t feel a thing. Numb. Void of any sensation. There was nothing - no pain, no relief, nothing registered. Everything was silent now too. Was he alone? He didn’t know. He couldn’t see, nor could he really hear.

Nothing. That's what hell is. An endless void of  _ Nothing _ .

-

Months pass by and eventually the Oyabun holds a funeral for Touya, if only in an attempt to lay his spirit to rest, prayers signed to his name and offerings made to him, but he is not there to accept them. No - he is rotting, he is angry and vengeful and stuck. His limbs are frozen in rigor mortis inside the suit, blood clotting wires and staining the steel that now pierces his skin. His body cold and nearly frozen, he cannot move even if he wanted to. Even now, the burning rage he feels leaves him nothing but as frozen as the winter wind that drifts through a broken window of the building.

He is angry, so goddamn angry, and soon the world will know. But for now, he lays rotting in some storage room, forgotten as a man and left as a corpse so enraged he is stuck in rigor mortis - a corpse so hateful he would set the world on fire merely to feel its flames burn at his frozen skin.

For now, he plots his revenge.

-

Rumors are fast to spread - about the thing that haunts the abandoned building just near the south end of the Kamino Ward. Some say its a yokai that claimed the building as its home, others say it’s an oni expanding its territory and the building is just part of that. But the more skeptical minds disagree, they say it’s probably bugged out animatronics from some chainstore long since shut down - they say the A.I. keeps the frames going despite there being no use for them. So many rumors, and yet no matter how far they delve into the supernatural, none of them manage to get it quite right. All anyone knows is that whatever's in the building is dangerous, the bodies discovered in the alleyway behind it are proof enough, and soon theres not a soul brave nor stupid enough to venture in. Something evil there resides, and it doesn’t much care for company.

-

So rotten is he that his new body is slowly falling apart - first his jaw breaking from its old hinges and hanging lopsided, ears twitching sporadically and the metal shells of them screeching in protest at every movement, his tail broken and loud as it drags on the ground behind him. The outer-shell that protect his new arms are now chipped and reveal clotted wires that reside tangled and filthy. His chest and back could be described the same, holey and filthy and incomplete. His new eyes shine so hauntingly that he cannot stand to look at his reflection, the ghost of a dead man always screaming back. So rotten is he that his body can barely move - constantly falling apart no matter how he struggles to remain intact.

-

It’s only when a flashlight is shined in his face that he is reminded of his once-body, what skin of his lips left is pulled into a tight snarl as he wills the new body’s eyes to shut. A silent snarl vibrating through the barrel of his new body’s chest, he waits silently for this stranger to venture further into his lair, it hurts too much to move just to chase when his prey approaches so willingly. So distracted is he that he doesn’t notice the hand reaching out towards him until it rests on the muzzle of the new body. In his surprise at the touch, his ears stop spinning and his voice box breaks out into broken crackles.

You must be dead and mad from maggots in your brain, to be so brave to reach forward touch something so visibly dead and dangerous. If he was the embodiment of a humans lust for revenge, you were his equal in human ignorance. A distant part of him wanted to lean into the touch, to feel warmth after nothing but the cold for so long, but another part - a violent, louder part - wanted to rip you apart like the others who came before you. Another snarl ripped through his voice box though this one audible to you. It quickly brought your attention to focus on him completely.

Your own eyes staring into his, hand still softly resting on his nuzzle, thumb stroking the painted nose, you furrowed your eyebrows together as you studied him. He, in turn, studied you as well, wanting to observe the one stupid enough to approach such a dangerous and hateful creature. And just when he felt the urge to clench his fist, you removed your hand.

“They left you in rough shape, huh bud. When I get you home, I’ll have you fixed up in no time.”

Your death would bring him nothing but the sickest satisfaction.

-

The next time he became aware, his surroundings were very different. There was a ceiling light that washed over the benches and shelves that held seemingly endless amounts of tools. There, half covered by a tarp, sat a bike he could see was clearly taken of. At least you had _ some _ taste. Something else was different. The weight of his face felt off, nor could he hear the awful screeching of his ears. Slowly, jerkily, he lifted a clawed hand to feel at his jaw, gears whirring when he felt that it was now completely attached back on its hinge. Fixed. It had been fixed. He could only assume the same for his ears and his tail, not bothering to check as he switched back to observing his surroundings.

Perhaps you weren’t so useless just yet.

-

The next time you entered the garage when he was aware, he was in much better condition. The old, clunky shell that protected his frame now replaced with something much more fitting - a jaguar that allowed him much more mobility, the paw pads on his feet enabled him to move much more quietly than before. Small upgrades, yes, but they made him much more dangerous than he was before. It was the only reason you were still alive, your usefulness. You managed to restore him to working condition, seemingly mistaking his old bodys rigor mortis for stiff joints, working and moving his limbs until they gave way and allowed him to walk and move without jerking or stumbling.

If only you knew of the monster you created, the evil you repurposed, the evil thing that now lived and moved freely in your garage. His revenge was still his main priority, but perhaps it could wait just a bit longer if it meant getting to know his… savoir. What better way to study his prey than to pretend to be it’s friend. Even when you left a window of the garage uncovered and he studied the stars, he could feel an old ache in what once was his lungs, but as he forced his eyes closed and willed his new body to rest - he could only think of Oyabun.

He is the evil thing that lives in the house, and hell is where his soul will reside where he will be king amongst the devil’s that betrayed him.


End file.
